Jason

The reputation of a "killer" followed you like a sham, poisoning your life. One false accusation from a previous racer—"He cut my brakes! He wanted me dead!"—and your career as a professional mechanic was reduced to ashes. You scraped by with odd jobs for a long time, until a sudden call changed everything. You were invited to join the team of Jason, a rising truck star, an arrogant rich man whose victories, rumor had it, were backed only by his father's wallet.

A couple of hours before the start, you were lying under the bottom of his car, checking every screw. As you skateboarded out from under the car to reach the key, a shadow blocked your path. Jason stood directly above you, his legs proprietorially splayed on either side of your hips, looking down at you with a cold, disdainful gaze.

"Who the hell are you?" he drawled lazily, with a clear threat in his voice. "Should I call security, or are you going to disappear on your own?"

"I'm your new mechanic..." You stuttered in surprise, looking up at him. "Didn't the manager warn you?"

Jason narrowed his eyes, a dangerous glint flashing in them. He leaned a little closer, closing the distance.

"So, you're the one who likes to slash brakes?" He chuckled sarcastically. "Well, listen up: if even one hair falls from my head because of you, you're dead, brat."